


Overjoyed

by Lothiriel84



Series: These words are all we have (We'll be talking) [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Aromantic, F/M, Family, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Relationship Advice, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: Oh I feel overjoyedWhen you listen to my words





	Overjoyed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timeladyleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/gifts).

Freshly fallen leaves crunch under his feet – brown and yellow, orange and red – and he strays outside the path on purpose, every playful kick punctuated by Snoopadoop’s excited yaps.

Autumn has always been one of his favourite seasons, almost up there with summer; winter is also brilliant, as is spring, of course – and he laughs out loud when Snoopadoop dives straight into a pile of raked leaves (much to the chagrin of the park maintenance workers, he suspects).

“Bad girl,” he scolds her, though he knows she can tell he doesn’t really mean it. Hastily, he pushes the leaves back with his foot into some semblance of a heap, and scuttles away with Snoopadoop hot on his heels. She’ll be needing a good brush when they get home – he won’t hear the end of it from Mum if she starts shaking off dead leaves all over the house – but that’s okay, he likes brushing Snoopadoop anyway.

Today’s the day, he suddenly remembers, his face breaking into a huge grin. He’s actually quite proud that he and Herc have talked about it; he likes Herc, he always treats him like a proper grown-up, which is not at all what Dad used to do, or still does, when he gets the chance – not that Arthur is planning to give him any in the foreseeable future, and, oh, he’s getting distracted again.

The point is that Herc told him he’s going to ask Mum, and it’s today, and he knows how Mum gets sometimes, but he told Herc it’s nothing to be worried about, not really; Arthur may be a clot – or was it a clod? he can’t quite remember – but he can see how much Mum likes Herc, and that for all her complaining, she’s happier now than she’s been in a very long time.

So he gets home, and brushes Snoopadoop, and makes himself a cup of cocoa – with marshmallows on top, the way he likes it – and waits for Mum and Herc to get back home, and then they can maybe go out for dinner, the three of them; or perhaps they will want to be left alone, and if that’s the case, Arthur’s more than happy to make himself scarce for the rest of the evening. After all, Tiffy has made it very clear that she doesn’t mind him staying the night, provided that he brings his own pyjamas and toothbrush, that is. (She’s also suggested he bring a spare to leave at her flat, but there’s only one pair of pyjamas Arthur finds comfortable enough to sleep in, and as for the toothbrush, he quite sensibly pointed out that she always keeps a brand new one at the back of her bathroom cabinet anyway.)

Snoopadoop has long dozed off on the carpet by the time Mum storms in – alone, and muttering to herself, which doesn’t seem terribly promising, but if there’s one thing Arthur’s learned, is that you should never jump to conclusions, least of all where Mum and Herc are involved.

“Hi, Mum,” he says, because he knows it won’t be any good if she launches into one of her tirades only to find Arthur sitting on the sofa, when she wasn’t expecting an audience. She throws her scarf across the back of a chair and strides into the kitchen, to make herself a cup of tea, presumably.

“The nerve of that man,” he can hear her grumble as she runs the tap, her hands almost but not quite trembling with suppressed fury as she puts the kettle on. Arthurs sighs and leans back against the doorframe; as far as outcomes go, this isn’t entirely unexpected, but it’s still not ideal, all things considered.

“Oh, Mum,” he starts, and he doesn’t flinch under her glare, but it’s a near thing. “It can’t be all that bad, now, can it?”

“Arthur, light of my life, I swear to God, if you and Herc have been – scheming, behind my back, all this time – ”

“Of course we haven’t. Herc just said he wanted me to know first, because I’m family – and isn’t that what we are, now? A family?”

Mum’s face does something complicate he’s not sure how to interpret, and then she lets herself fall onto a chair, taking her head between her hands.

“To think we’d been doing so well,” she huffs, as if talking to herself. “Why did he have to go and, and ruin it?”

Arthur frowns, still not entirely sure why things should change at all, proposal or not. “Herc’s been living here for months now, how is this any different?”

“Because!” she splutters, indignantly, only to trail off almost immediately. “It just is, I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. I’m sorry, dear heart, I know you like Herc, but sometimes things are – complicated, and they can’t always be fixed by a last-minute miracle, the way it happened with G-ERTI.”

A reluctant grin tugs at the corner of his mouth; he still remembers the astonished look on Tiffy’s face as he recounted the entire adventure, down to the fact that every time he’d walked into the flight deck bringing teas and coffees, the plane was already partly made of gold, only Douglas still hadn’t figured it out back then.

Speaking of Tiffy, why does he feel like he’s on the brink of – well he’s not sure of what, exactly, something important, anyway. It’s got something to do with the way Mum gets upset every time Herc does something silly, like buying her flowers, or kissing her cheek in public, or, well, asking her to marry him; and it’s not as if he’s planning to ask Tiffy, not really, and he knows she wouldn’t want him to, but his point still stands, he thinks.

“Mum,” he starts, tentative, but he feels like he’s getting close, somehow. “Is this about – you know Herc doesn’t mind that you’re aromantic, right?”

The astonished silence that falls is broken only by the whistle of the kettle. Arthur blinks, then steps into the kitchen, fetches cup, saucer, and spoon; Carolyn doesn’t breathe a word as he pours the tea – black, warm, and strong, the way she likes it – adds a splash of milk, and drops two sugars into the cup. It’s only when he’s debating whether or not he should stir the beverage for her that she startles back to life, and he takes a step back, making a detour for the cupboard where they keep the biscuit tin.

“...that I’m what, now?” Carolyn exhales at length, and there’s something in her voice Arthur can’t quite place, but a small part of him would swear it sounds quite like – relief?

Arthur opens the tin, slides it across the table. He thinks he would quite like to have some custard creams, later on, when they’re done talking about whatever this is. “You know, like Tiffy is? But it’s okay, because we talked together, and we have a list of things she’s fine with, and one for the things that are maybe fine but I should always ask first, and you know how I sometimes forget, but that’s still okay because I taught her how to use Code Red on me. And I know it’s rude to assume, and maybe you’re not, well, aromantic, or whatever, but either way, Herc said he knows you love him, only not in the way he does, and it’s all good, so long as he gets to spend the rest of his life with you.”

The spoon clatters loudly against the saucer, and Arthur pretends it’s enough to cover Carolyn’s sniffle – Mum doesn’t like it when other people see her cry, it makes her all embarrassed and angry. From where she’s curled in front of the fireplace, Snoopadoop raises one ear, sniffs the air cautiously, then decides she might as well continue her nap.

“Arthur, my dear,” Mum enunciates, carefully, over the lid of her cup. “Why don’t you go and take Snoopadoop for a walk? I believe your – stepfather, and I, have something we need to discuss.”

He refrains from telling her that they’ve only just been; he grabs a handful of biscuits instead, ignoring her disapproving look as he stuffs them in his pockets. “Will do,” he smiles, grabs his jacket, Snoopadoop already wagging her tail in anticipation as he reaches for the leash.

They’ve barely crossed the lawn when they see Herc’s green Mercedes turning into the driveway, Snoopadoop sprinting forward to welcome him home.

The car stops, and as soon as the driver’s door opens, Snoopadoop hops in, demanding to be petted. “There you are, you ridiculous thing,” he hears Herc chuckle, fond and wistful at the same time. “Who’s a silly dog, now?”

“Hello, Herc,” he waves, patting his knee to get Snoopadoop’s attention. “Come on girl, let’s go.”

He knows well enough what he’s attempting can’t quite be described as a wink, but Herc seems to get it anyway, and relaxes into something close enough to a smile.

“See you later, Arthur,” Herc says, even as Snoopadoop scampers off towards the main road. Arthur grins, nods, then sprints to catch up with her before she runs into trouble.

“Yellow car,” he calls out, triumphant – he knows Snoopadoop can’t play, not really, what with being a dog and everything, but it’s nice to pretend, now and again – and puts her on the leash.


End file.
